The Stag's March
by GigiPuff
Summary: *Sequel to 'Something Made for Fables'* Sienna Baratheon, a queen in a war of kings, has to wade her way through brotherhoods, traitors and things far beyond her own understanding. Will she be able to take about what rightfully belongs to her? Is she truly The Lord's Chosen? OFC/Sansa
1. Chapter 1: A Crown for a Queen

In stories of Kings and Queens, the lovers meet in times of peril or war. They fall in love when the Prince hears the Princesses' sweet songs coming from her tall tower. It will be love at first sight. She sighs a dreamy sigh, and he swears his heart to her forever more. They will marry in a large cathedral in front of the entire kingdom. She wears a dress of silk ivory, while he wears his thick red velvet cloak. The priest binds them together with his holy words. They kiss to seal their vows. Everyone claps and cheers.

The Prince is crowned in front of the whole country. The lords and ladies of his lands will come stand in front of a holy place and watch their new ruler be crowned. His coronation signifies the beginning of his reign as King. His Queen will be crowned at his side, the whole world marveling in her beauty and grace. This is the story of most myths or legends. This is how everything starts for Kings and Queens.

Not our Queen. Our Queen does not even have her throne nor a King beside her. She did not sit in a tower; she fought in a battle. She did not walk on petals thrown at her feet; she marched on mud, sand and blood. And the love she swore to is a woman blessed with all the beauty of The Maiden, all the strength of The Warrior and all the love of The Mother.

My friends, the stag's march is beginning.

* * *

She stared out at the crashing oceans that morning in The Chamber of the Painted Table. She saw the water change from sea green to dark blue farther in the distance, the remaining ships sitting in the harbor far below her, and the various colored tents of her allies scattered on the beaches. She supped with every one of them in the past month. They said various things: They'd follow the rightful heir anywhere. They'd defend the rightful Queen of Westeros with every last breath and said they'd do it because they admired her or her father or her uncle. A few made hints about their sons; one made a hint about his daughter. She ignored them all. She was only interested in their answers.

_'They're all with me...but for how long?'_ She asked herself.

Then she spotted it. The long procession of lords coming from the beach atop horses to the mountain top on the winding path. Some of them invited their wives and children to witness the exciting day, leaving garrisons and stewards to guard their homes. Instead of steel armor and swords, the people garbed themselves in fine silks, satins or velvets. She heard handmaidens spent hours doing their lady's hairs in intricate style, while the barbers spent the day trimming beards. The families proudly bore their banners, counting all 15 of them as they marched. She felt her stomach churn seeing the long crowd of people. This was worse than the tourney with Clegane or the Battle of the Blackwater. She never thought _she'd_ be the one doing this. Naturally, they'd all be in King's Landing in the Sept of Baelor. The crowned will stand in front of The Father, recite the vows all King's make but never keep, and be crowned by the High Septon. They walk down the aisle to the applause of their people, walk down the steps of Baelor to the roaring cheers of the kingdom, and feast in the Great Hall of the Red Keep.

Here, she was told by Sansa she'd be crowned on the top of the mountain where Melisandre's followers meet for prayer. She will pull a sword from a statue, and Stannis will proclaim her queen. Supposedly, the one the strange fire god wants can remove the sword. Sienna believed she couldn't. All this talk of being a 'Chosen One' or 'The Lord's Chosen' must be nonsense. There was no spiritual being guiding her. Everything she did was through her, not some distant god.

They all abandoned her long ago.

Neither have no idea how in the world she'll be anointed, but hopefully it will not involve fire. The last thing they wanted was her train catching fire.

Sansa took control of having her coronation dress tailored. The dress itself was ivory, made of a smooth silk patterned in flowers of gold and silver; the silk lace trim went on the neckline and sleeves. The train made of deep black silk velvet collared in ermine fur of white and black sat on a chair held together by gold stag clasps, and the heavy gilded gold trim of her real cloak shining in the morning light. Sansa-aided by Shireen- put up half her hair so only the bottom half of her curls came around her face and the other locked in place with braids. It looked like an organized mess of hair.

"But it's pretty," Sansa grinned.

"Especially when they put the crown on your head," Shireen would smile.

Oh sweet Mother, the crown. Edric happily showed it to her when the smith finished designing it for her. He said it was definitely made for her. Made of gold, the edges were decorated in emeralds and diamonds and shaped like stag horns. She occasionally came down to the smith's forge to see the delicate piece placed carefully in its box. She thought about herself wearing it today. She'll look like a proper fool wearing it, no doubt.

She took a seat at the table on Dragonstone, the highest seat in the room.

"Your Grace?"

Sansa walked into the chamber dressed like a real princess. Her auburn strands braided back so the ends flowed loosely down, make-up was hardly needed on someone like Sansa. Her satin dress the color of violets and lined with a tiny pattern she couldn't make out. The color contrasted with the dark purple lining she wore underneath, and cloak flapped behind her on golden clasps.

"Sansa..." She said.

"Why aren't you wearing the train?" She scolded, picking up the heavy cloak from the chair.

"Because it's heavy and I don't have to wear it right now."

Sansa smoothed out whatever miniscule wrinkles she found as she brought it over. She motioned for Sienna to turn and the lady carefully placed the heavy cloak over her shoulders and clasped the stags together. "You smell like roses," Sienna noted, pushing a strand of hair from Sansa's face.

"I thought I put on something different for the occasion," Sansa said. "Plus, I don't have any more vanilla oil. I couldn't find it anywhere."

"I'll have some more brought to you when the ships come again."

"What? You don't like roses all of a sudden?"

"Not recently, no. Not with that sneaky, snide Littlefinger on his way here," Sienna grumbled. "What does he want anyway? We have nothing of interest to him."

"Perhaps he's hear with news from The Queen. She might want to make peace with you because you are her daughter or Joffrey came to his senses and saw that you are his sister and you should be working together."

"If only it were that easy, my love."

The cloak felt heavy on her shoulders, and the train added extra weight. "Then why do you think he's here?" Sansa began fixing little things here and there on her dress.

"Probably to make some ridiculous treaty that benefits them more than me," She shook the train around her shoulders so it settled well, "He's good for that sort of thing, Littlefinger."

"He was always kind to me when I was there," Sansa said. "He won't give us any trouble."

"He was kind to you because he was madly in love with your mother and wants to see her daughter safe and happy."

"Well, he wasn't doing a good job if he wanted me safe and happy." Their arms slipped around each other easily, "You did a better job than him and you were in a black cell."

Sienna chuckled, "I suppose. Lord Baelish is a mysterious man, not as much as Varys but mysterious all the same. He has his little spies, his secrets and his knowledge. That makes him dangerous. He probably already knows this happening today...She already knows..."

Her mother. Cersei Lannister. The Queen Reagent of the Seven Kingdoms and the last person Sienna ever wished to see again. She nearly destroyed everything with her jealousy. She let The Hound try to kill her, and she let Joffrey stick her in a black cell. She never visited her once. She claimed to have all this love for her, but gave her none. It's as if she suddenly stopped being so lovable when the people rose up in revolt for her rule. Not being Uncle Jamie's child made you less worthy in Cersei's eyes. The disgusting woman. People said Sienna's perversions were sinful? What about the Queen who had her brother's children? Does no one care about that? Sienna hated her. She hated every little thing about that woman.

If that is true, then why does Sienna wish she were there? Why does she wish she could see the pride and approval on her face? Cersei would stand in the crowd, dressed in her finest gown with that golden hair flowing loosely around her beautiful face, and watch her daughter be crowned Queen of Westeros. She would clap; she would kiss her daughter's cheeks and mutter how pleased she was. Why couldn't Cersei just be happy for her? Why couldn't she return the love Sienna gave her? Sienna gave her everything. Sienna did everything she asked of her, even if she didn't like it sometimes.

"Don't let her spoil your day," Sansa's words broke into her thoughts. "You're supposed to be happy. You're going to be a real queen today."

"How can I be happy when I'm so nervous?" She tried laughing.

"Because I'll be there every step of the way? Because you have men who will follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond? Because...Because maybe we could get married..." Sansa kissed her lips gently.

"Pardon, my lady? Married? I don't believe The Seven allow such unions or even the Old Gods," Sienna smirked.

"But there is one who does."

"Are you saying you want to-"

"-Sienna! Sienna! Sienna!"

Shireen and Edric broke into the room. The girls jumped a foot away from each other as the two children wrapped themselves around Sienna's lower half. Shireen wore a simple gown made of dark satin and tulle, while Edric wore velvet and leather. They both beamed up at her. Sienna hardly noticed Shireen's greyscale, the molted black and grey scar that stiffened her left cheek and neck, when she smiled.

"My father said to come get you," Shireen said, "Our wheelhouse is here."

"It's really big, sister!" Her half-brother Edric cried. "I think it's at least two stories high and has tons of horses! Sansa had only black ones put so they matched the wheelhouse."

"Did you?" Sienna turned her head over her shoulder. "A bit expensive, no?"

"Not expensive when you've persuaded a bunch of lords into giving up their horses for the day. We're not fighting, so why leave them there?"

Sansa walked behind the trio as they made their way outside the castle. Horns began blowing in the morning air, the banners flapping wildly in the winds, and men standing at attention for her entrance. Lords and ladies walking by saw her either stared in curiosity or grinned like fools. The constant rhymes of Patchface, Shireen's fool, came to her ears:

_'Fool's blood, king's blood, blood on the maiden's thigh, but chains for the guests and chains for the bridegroom, aye, aye, aye. _

_Queen's blood, lover's blood, the shadows give a deadly sigh. But a scream for the mother and a drink for the brother, aye, aye, aye.'_

His songs never made sense. Something about it irked her, but she brushed the feeling away. She looked around for her uncle and aunt, but saw only kind Maester Pylos and a few household guards led by Rolland Storm, whom people called the Bastard of Nightsong. He called his men to attention as she walked out of the entrance to the castle, which was shaped like a dragon's mouth. They crossed their swords over her head as one opened the door to a gold-colored wheelhouse down the staircase. She stepped inside with the rest of them, sitting quietly as they began riding away. The closer they came, the easier the smoke came into her nose. The scent of burning wood flowed with the ocean breezes, and the hot burning flames could be seen from miles away like beacons of light. She knew Melisandre was doing her little prayers and rituals. She did them day and night with her followers.

"Is it true what they've been saying?" Sansa asked her out of the children's earshot. "That she's been...burning...people alive?"

"Yes. She told me they were to be sacrificed to the Lord of Light. I don't know the truth of it, but she claimed they planned treasonous things against me and her. What others have told me is that she's simply getting rid of those who oppose her, using her fire god as a reason."

"You're the queen. You can make her stop."

"No, I can't. Then she'll have her lackies do the same to you or me," Sienna said.

"She's not a completely horrible person, Sienna,"

"The woman burns people alive, Sansa!" Sienna nearly laughed at this. "She throws them in flames and claims it for some foreign god nobody's ever heard of until now. How do we even know anything that has happened is the work of a God? What if she's merely incredibly good at duping people?"

"She has been offering to help with your marriage situation. She explained the 'birthing gift' to me, and she has told me all about her god. I hear her words, Sienna. She says the long night is coming. What is the long night? Winter. Winter is coming. What comes with winter? The Others."

Sienna snickered, "Oh Sansa. My love, you've been hanging around her for far too long. I think she's made you believe your old nurse's stories are real." She kissed her cheek, "Please, let's not talk about this anymore today. I have enough to worry about."

"Don't you want to marry me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then please just consider it? It wouldn't be so hard, would it? Just come to the mountain with me tonight, and see for yourself what she's talking about. You cannot judge something you don't know anything about."

"I can if she's burning people alive for fun."

"Sienna!"

"I'm sorry, my lady. It's just I don't really-"

"-We're here!" Shireen's cheer cut into Sienna's words.

Sienna turned from Sansa to the window. A guardsman came to the wheelhouse door, and they all came out in the same order. Sienna felt the entire world staring at her when she stepped out of the wheelhouse. She saw the oceans and lands all around them far off in the distance, the wind blowing in her ears, and her stomach twisting in her gut. She had half a mind to run away from this. She could take Sansa to the Free Cities. They could live out the rest of their days in peace away from the politics of Westeros.

No. She couldn't. She is a Baratheon. She has a duty to her country and the realm. They will never be free or safe with King Joffrey upon the throne. It didn't matter that he took that Tyrell girl as his bride or that they have The Reach behind them now. Nothing stops Joffrey. She loved her brother, but hated his pride and ignorance. His cruelty knew no bounds. He did not care when he raped Sansa, he didn't care when he had the girl whipped in front of the whole court, and he certainly did not mind cutting off Ned Stark's head. People starved outside his gates while he ate roasted boars and potatoes. He did not deserve his crown. He never will.

They had spent days making them. The crowd stood before a circle of seven tall figures, burning like torches. They represented the Seven gods Sienna's forefathers worshipped, and whom The Andals brought in their invasion. In the center stood a woman garbed in crimson satins and silks. Her hair as fiery as the flames around her, with a ruby resting on the hollow of her neck perfectly. She stood on a small platform amongst the flaming gods, showing no fear of the embers or flames eating up the wooden idols. Beside her stood her uncle, Stannis Baratheon, square-jawed and black-haired like her father; his squire, Devan Seaworth, holding her crown on a velvet cushion.

She heard her voice like a song in the wind. "Lord of Light! We offer you these false Gods!" Sienna began stepping forward, everyone turned their eyes from Melisandre to her. "Take them and cast your light upon your chosen one. Guide her in your flames, burn her enemies to ashes, and give her the strength to defeat The Great Other. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

The people repeated, "For the night is dark ad full of terrors."

"After the long summer, darkness will fall heavy on the world," She continued. "The stars will bleed. The cold breath of winter shall freeze the roaring seas. And the dead shall rise again in the North, and take their place as His army. In the ancient books, it is written that a warrior will draw a flaming sword from the heart of his idol, and that sword shall be Lightbringer."

Sienna came towards the edge of the circle. She felt her shaking palms slowly grow steadier, and her eyes focus on the sword driven into the heart of the tallest idol: The Father. She must heave that sword out. If she cannot remove it, this woman and her followers will cast her aside just as they did her uncle. She will lose her support. Half her sworn brothers believe in this woman's God. She sees them at her prayer circles, and brandishing new banners with flaming hearts on them. Sienna must gather her strength. She can hold this heavy train on her shoulders, so no doubt she can remove a sword.

"Sienna Baratheon," Melisandre approached her. Her maroon colored eyes never showed any emotion other than serenity. She seemed so calm, and highly faithful in her god. Sienna stared right back into them. "Warrior of the Light, Our God's Chosen...your sword awaits you..."

She focused on The Father. The God she prayed to the most, and who gave her the most courage. The Father, who sat in judgment over souls when they passed into his realm. He was the most important of The Seven, which is why he was the tallest, she imagined. The fire went all along the sword, the pommel a simple red jewel, but the hilt carved like dragon wings. The sword was something. She could not hesitate to touch this flaming sword. She stood in front of The Father, looking up at the figure's wooden face. The flames ate away most of the wood, leaving it black and burning still. Her heart beat wildly in that instant. She couldn't pull that sword out. The sword would burn her hand, and it sunk too deeply in. Regardless, she prayed to the exact figure in front of her. She grasped the hilt and pulled without thinking.

The crowds cheered. She stared at her hand. She lifted up the sword for everyone to see. She beamed and smiled in relief. The sword, frankly, radiated no heat at all. Was Lightbringer supposed to do that? Was it supposed to be so cold? It felt no different than a regular sword, she found. Why was it so special then? She can't kill Others with a cold sword...can she? She looked at Melisandre, who bid her forward. The ceremony was not over yet.

She walked to her uncle and his squire.

"Kneel," Her uncle said.

Sienna dug the sword into the ground, its flames never dying. She stared up at her uncle, his cold eyes bearing no satisfaction or happiness. She took no offense. Stannis was not a cheerful man. In fact, she's never seen him smile. She pictured her own father, Robert Baratheon, crowning her instead. He'd smile. He'd smile wider than anyone through his fat cheeks and thick black beard. At the end, he'd hug, kiss, and pat her back. He'd boast of his daughter, Queen of Westeros, brandishing a flaming sword. She wished he were there. She wished _somebody _stood in the front watching her. She tried keeping the tears from her eyes. She wouldn't cry here.

"Sienna Baratheon, my niece, my heir. The one who has handled the great sword Charger, Stormbringer, and now Lightbringer. Who is the Lord of Light's Chosen. I give to you the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros," He took the crown and held it above her head. "Sienna, do you swear to guard and protect the Seven Kingdoms as long as you live?"

"On my heart, I swear it."

"Do you swear to preserve peace, and maintain the prosperity of the people?"

"On my heart, I swear it."

"Do you swear to always protect the innocent, obey your God, and keep to your vows?"

"On my heart, I swear it."

"Then I, Stannis Baratheon, hereby declare you Queen Sienna of House Baratheon, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." He placed the crown on her head. It felt surprisingly heavy for such a small thing. "You may stand."

She stood up from her place, still holding her flaming sword and wearing her new crown as she faced her people. They all stared at her. She wondered for a moment if they changed their minds. Her uncle's voice rang out like a bell across the mountain top.

"Hail to the Queen!" He took his place in front of her and knelt.

"HAIL TO THE QUEEN!"

They all knelt. Each and every one of those lords bent their knees to this new queen. She felt her heart jump onto her face; her smile spread wider than ever before. Her eyes found Sansa's in the crowd as they made their way towards the wheelhouse. She couldn't stop smiling; her hands shook and her knees wobbled slightly on her way into the golden wheelhouse. She was a real queen, and all these people were hers. Sienna would ride into battle with Lightbringer, which she left for one of Melisandre's cronies to pick up, slaying down all their enemies.

"Now, Your Grace," Sansa teased in the wheelhouse, "You're going to need a Hand and a Queensguard."

"Seven Hells...Do I really have to do that? Can't I just make somebody do it for me?"

"I suppose. You are the Queen."


	2. Chapter 2: Honesty

_'Your Grace, Queen Sienna of House Baratheon, _

_It has come to our attention that Lady Olenna of House Redwyne wishes to take audience with you in our home of Driftmark alongside Lord Peytr Baelish peacefully. She shall bring only a small house guard of five men for protection. The Queen of Thorns says they are private, urgent matters. Please send your response at once._

_Signed, _

_Monterys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark'_

"Who really sent this, uncle? The six-year-old or the bastard?" Sienna tossed the letter down onto the painted table of Westeros.

"Most likely Lord Monford's bastard, Aurane," Stannis replied. "The boy only has to sign and seal it. I don't trust this. Not one bit."

"Nor I, Your Grace," Rolland Storm spoke as he read the letter. "This has Littlefinger written all over it. Why would they want to meet in Driftmark and not here in Dragonstone?"

"Because he knows I wouldn't meet him here," Sienna told them. "If we let Baelish in, he'll know everything: Our defenses, our strengths, and our weaknesses. Why do you think they want to talk? They hope to get a look at us, but the Tyrells probably talked them out of it."

The Lannisters had nothing to fear, to be honest. Sienna's army wasn't large enough for another full-scale siege or even a small attack. Gathering up forces after a large defeat like Blackwater isn't easy anymore. Their numbers dwindled when they lost and again after her crowning. However, this needed to be kept secret. If Baelish knew their exact numbers, her grandfather will have no problem wiping them out now. Robb Stark gave him enough trouble; a new player and a traitor calling herself a 'queen' on the loose simply added to their list of nuisances. They can know they're weak, but not how weak.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Your Grace," Rolland said. "Pardon me, if you will, but you are a wanted criminal. Perhaps this is some sort of trap to capture you. This small guard could be jailors rather than soldiers."

"Which is why she'll bring her Queensguard," Stannis replied. "The strongest men in Dragonstone ready to die for their queen."

"Problem: I have no personal guard," Sienna confessed to them.

"What? Why not?"

"I haven't really thought of anyone. I don't know the knights that well around here. But, let us push that aside please," She stared at the map.

Sienna sat on her chair in The Chamber of the Painted Table on Dragonstone. All the little pieces scattered on the large map represented what army sat where. Robb Stark-the wolf figures-sat in the River Lands near Riverrun with The Tullys. The Geyjoys sat as krakens in places on The North, while Lions scattered the Reach, Westerlands, and Crownlands. Naturally, she could avoid all these people if she worked alone. She could go on her own to meet Baelish and Redwyne in some remote area, and then be on her way back. Though, Baelish is too smart. If she's alone, and he knows, he'll tell the nearest Lannister commander where she's hiding. She'd need a guard. Nothing too big or too small. She'd need a Queensguard as well as a few of her own soldiers. But who can she appoint? The men turned easily at Blackwater; then again when she became queen. How did she know they wouldn't do the same a second time? She barely knew the knights in Dragonstone. She either heard of them through stories or by name, but never personally spoke to them. She wanted to know the men who served her.

"Tell me about this Lady Olenna," Sienna told them. "What kind of person is she?"

"I've never met the woman," Her uncle said first, "But I've heard she has quite a sharp tongue."

"Too sharp," Rolland told her. "You'll have to be careful what you say in front of them, Your Grace. We cannot give anything away. If the Lannisters and the Tyrells were to discover were aren't as strong as they thought-"

"-They'd come here, I know."

"And they could attack. Mace Tyrell tried seizing Storm's End from me," Stannis said. "He won't have a problem with Dragonstone, especially if he thinks it's ill-guarded. You'll have to make no mention of our exact numbers or even talk about our ships, if they try to bring it up with you."

"He could be sending his mother as a fail-safe. He'll make you think 'She's just an old woman. What harm can she do?' and then suddenly his army is at our door."

"I'm not dim," She said to them both. "I know what I shouldn't say. It's a matter of what I should tell them to keep them from coming here. Fiery hearts on our banners isn't going to stop them. A foreign god who likes fire just makes them laugh, really. I'll have to wing it, I suppose." She touched on a lion around the eastern boarder close to Driftmark, "Who's on the harbor?"

"Oh, nobody of importance I've been told, Your Grace," Rolland answered. "Merely a small platoon guarding the harbor. Your know, routine cargo checks and checkpoints to keep the smugglers away and to ward off any incoming enemies."

"More like terrorize the people and leave them to starve while they steal the last bit of articles they have to sell," Sienna corrected. "They're who we have to watch out for. If I'm right, she'll take a small ship from there to Driftmark and back."

"Your Grace?"

"Spies...Stowaways who sit on the ships and listen to things in the captain's quarters or sneak onto the island. Just because the eunuch isn't physically joining them does not mean he won't be there. And no doubt Baelish will have one of his too walking around, talking to villagers and nobles alike to see what he can find out from the locals. You know, things we're not going to tell them ourselves. Have some men standby at the checkpoint when we see their ship dock on Driftmark; _only_ our men. None of those village watchmen or any of the Velaryons people. I want them to search them whole place for anything suspicious while they're inside with me."

"And if they should find a spy?"

"Kill them. We can't risk them telling their masters."

"What if he sends a child? The spider is known for having small birds rather than big ones."

"Imprison them. Letting them free is too dangerous at the moment or give them to a family willing to take them in, if you can find one."

Rolland nodded. Strangely enough, she was starting to like Rolland. He helped her uncle escape from Blackwater when defeat was clear. She also heard of his bravery in other battles; his fierce devotion to the Seven, and his bastardry in House Caron. He favors The Warrior she guessed from the battleaxes on the background of a seven pointed star in the corner of his shield, where he adorned the black nightingales of House Caron. Rolland may be a bastard son, but he brave and honest. He told her the scars on his face came from the pox he survived in childhood; his dark hair the same as his father's and his grey eyes like steel.

"And what about your Queensguard?" Stannis asked. "You need one when you go meet them. If they see a queen with no personal guard, it opens you to more threats than before."

"I'll look into it."

"You'll look into it?" Stannis raised his eyebrows. "You hear that, Ser Rolland? She will look into it. Sienna, you are a claimant to the throne now. Do you know how many of those traitors want to kill you?"

"I am quite aware that people want to see my head on a spike, Uncle. Thank you for reminding me."

"You need men to protect you. You can't fight an entire army on your own; you're a queen. You don't have to do everything yourself."

"It seems so, because nothing is done if I don't do it."

"Your Grace," Rolland leaned in, "If you wish, I can take you to some men I know. They are loyal to the bone, Your Grace. They'll fight for you."

Sienna couldn't ask. She can't ask with him sitting in front of them. She nodded, "Very well, yes. Please. I appreciate the help, Rolland."

"I'll ask Selyse to give you some of her guard for the time being-"

"-No."

"Pardon, Your Grace? Selyse's guards are well-armored men. They're warriors and honest men. They will fight to the death for you, Sienna. They will lay down their lives-"

"No. I don't want them. Rolland shall select candidates for me, while you get us ready to sail and meet this woman. I want a strong ship, a good captain, and I'd like Edric with me."

Stannis paused. "Edric? Why?"

"Well, for one, he's a charming little boy and old women love charming little boys. He's not an idiot, so he'll listen to what I tell him to say. Plus, if he's to be the heir to the Iron Throne, he should see a little bit of politics in action, don't you agree?"

"Heir to the Iron Throne?!

"In the event Sansa cannot or will not give me a trueborn child," Sienna assured him. "He's my brother, despite his bastardry. Sometime soon I will have that bastard name removed and he will be the Baratheon he is born and made to be. For the time being, I'd like him to accompany me. Sansa as well, since I know how sweet Peytr must be on her because his past with her mother; perhaps she can distract him...You of course will come with me, and Rolland? Shall you come?"

"Your Grace, I..." He trailed off, "I am a simple soldier."

"One of my best soldiers. You also sit on my council. I trust you. Please, come with us."

"If Her Grace wishes, then I will." He bowed his head. They exchanged smiles. Good, she'd have at least _one_ man of the Seven with her.

"And Melisandre, Your Grace?" Stannis asked.

Sienna thought. Taking Melisandre has no purpose since it's not a battle. Plus, her foreign god will unnerve the proceedings. "No. She will stay behind. Olenna Redwyne and Peytr Baelish are followers of The Seven, and they won't be intimidated by a fire god. There'll be no purpose."

Stannis seemed disappointed. He thought she'd be like him: Dragging the red woman around the entire country with him. She stood up from her seat, "I think we're all done for today. You're dismissed."

They both stood and bowed out of the room. Sienna waited until Stannis rounded the corner before approaching him. In the hall, she saw his square shoulders and armor glinting in the sunlight. Sienna could not speak to Rolland with her uncle sitting there. He would've tried changing her mind; make her pick someone loyal to the Lord of Light. No. Sienna wouldn't have that. She didn't care if she was 'the Lord's Chosen'. She wanted King's Men (as they were called).

"Ser Rolland," She said, "May I have one more word with you?"

He turned, "Of course, Your Grace."

She stood with him in the deserted hall. Hopefully, nobody will hear them and go running to that god awful Selyse. She can't outright ask. She cannot make a mistake in choosing people right now, especially when her crown is so fragile. Sienna brought him towards the windows overlooking the courtyard and the seas outside.

"How long have you been under my uncle's service?" She began.

"A few years now, Your Grace."

"What do you think of him? And be honest, please. I know my uncle can be a difficult man. He's so stubborn and stuck to his honor and the law all the time. It must not be easy having him as your liege lord."

"I will confess it is not. But, his honor and respect of the law is what makes him a good man, and a good king if he kept the crown," Rolland said. "When your uncle proclaimed himself king, many thought we were doomed. They said Stannis wouldn't last against Renly or the Lannisters. His army wasn't large enough at the time, and many did not support his claim. When he told the world the truth of your mother and her brother hardly anyone believed him, but he did not care. Stannis believes whoever the throne belongs to shall sit there. Since you were in the Free Cities, nowhere to be found, he took the crown.

When he heard from a messenger you returned home, he sat up from his seat at the Painted Table. We all wondered why. I believed he thought you might come take the crown from him. He probably feared some little girl-no offense, Your Grace-will take everything he built from him; he didn't want her destroying everything. Instead, the next morning, he sat beside the chair. When the witch asked him why he would not take his place on the seat, he said because it no longer belonged to him. He said he'll round up forces to go to King's Landing. They'll take the city if they could, but his main concern was getting you out of there. He said the rightful heir was in King's Landing, most likely standing in the training yard taking down lads left and right or riding through the Kingswood like a outlaw on the run. I think for that moment, your uncle hardly cared who sided with him. In his eyes, in the eyes of the law, you are the queen and he would do anything to put you there."

"And you praise him for it? Did you follow him?"

"Stannis is my lord, and I'd follow him anywhere. Many doubted you, and do still. He never has. When Lady Selyse tried protesting against the action, he turned her away. To Stannis, you are queen, and he will put you in your proper place. He said you'd make a better ruler than anyone else; you may have been like Robert, but you are something all your own. He may not say it or show it, but he cares for you dearly."

"Do you doubt me, Ser Rolland?" She questioned.

"No, Your Grace, though I will be honest in saying I thought I would. The idea of a woman sitting on the Iron Throne is uneasy for men, because that chair's a King's chair, not a Queen's. The Mother made men to be the kings, and women to be their queens and give them sons. The Warrior gave the kings strength and The Maiden gave the Queens beauty. Though, when I saw you riding away on the sail boat as I fought through the Lannister hordes, shooting down men like they were wild turkeys, I knew I could follow you. You are just and fair. You love all people; not just those who can get you somewhere. How you were willing to spare a spy because they were a child...How many kings would do that, I ask you? None. Not anymore."

"I personally don't believe I'm cut out to be a Queen. I never learned the basics of ruling a kingdom."

"I believe being a ruler of a kingdom or a castle or even a holdfast is a gift from The Father and Mother. She makes us and he gives us the rule of divine right. The job is not something you learn right away. It is like life, you learn as you grow.

The Father gives you choices: Should you join the war or stay out of it? Does gold benefit the land more than crops or do crops have more weight? Do you marry for duty or for love? How do you raise your children? With a firm hand or a gentle one? What if you come across an outlaw whose killed tons of villagers? do you kill or imprison him for life? What if he's a knight? Does that hold him to a higher standard or does he receive the same treatment as the outlaw? These are choices that define a ruler. You are young. You haven't been given enough time but I do believe you shall be tested. That red woman is not wrong: You do have trials ahead of you."

"But I can't even choose my own guard. What kind of ruler doesn't know a good knight from a bad one? I'm entrusting that into another person, you."

"A person you feel has enough experience to make the right decision. All the men here are skillful. They may not be as easy about a woman being their queen, but they are still here, aren't they? If they didn't believe you could do it, they would have left already."

"Another question, ser, how many men in this castle still follow The Seven?" She asked him.

"Eh, a handful, I would say. After Blackwater, a few more joined that priestess on the mountain."

"But there are men loyal still? Who pray to the gods of their fathers?"

"Aye, Your Grace. Myself and a few close friends, and a knight or two who grew up in the shadows of Septs and Septons. Am I to assume you wish for only those men in your guard?" He questioned.

"Yes." Sienna felt horrible telling him this. She saw people everywhere in Dragonstone slowly moving from The Mother, who gave them life, to this fire god that asks for human sacrifices. She sometimes could hear the chanting carried in the winds. _'The night is dark and full of terrors'_ , they'd say. She'd hear screams of the sacrificed: so-called traitors against the crown. Most were people against Melisandre and her cause or people who spoke out against her. "I want King's Men to be my men. If it is not too much trouble, that is."

"Not at all, Your Grace. Though, may I add a bit of council?"

"It is welcomed." She waited.

"In this world, the religion does not completely define the man or his capabilities. I may not like them, but I shall never doubt the queen reserved some of the best for herself. Yes, they turned their backs on their father's gods and burn innocent men at night, but when it comes down to needing protection from your enemies-many of which you have-they will answer the call, Your Grace. I will not question your final guard, Your Grace, but I think you should consider all the men at your disposal. Not just the ones faithful to The Seven."

She smiled brightly. That was the right answer. "You're right, Ser Rolland. You may pick whichever man you wish to be under your command."

"Under my command, Your Grace?" He asked bemused.

"Yes, I'd like you to be the Lord Commander of my Queensguard, Ser Rolland."

The seriousness in his eyes faded into a cheerfulness she hadn't seen. His broad smile matched his surprised chuckle. "Your Grace...This is...Your honor me," He knelt before her. "I am not worthy enough of a man to be the Lord Commander. There are others who are worthier than I, Your Grace."

Sienna motioned for him to stand, "There might be, but I don't know those men, Ser Rolland. You rescued my uncle from defeat and death, you never failed in keeping me informed, and you seem much more at home here than I am. You're a faithful man, Ser Rolland. You're honest with me. You could have lied to me just now. You could have bad-mouthed my uncle, fed me lies about how I am the greatest ruler you've ever seen, and that you'd be more than happy to choose knights only faithful to the Seven. Instead, you were honest. I need honesty, Ser Rolland. So please, say you accept."

"I..." He grinned at her, "I accept the position, Your Grace."

They were off to a good start so far.


End file.
